


magic in your fingertips

by guksheart (jeonsflower)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Rivals to Lovers, endless bickering and lots of banter between two emotionally constipated protaganists, jungkook is a ravenclaw quidditch player who can't handle crushes, taehyung and jimin are the ultimate wingmen who also suck at most things, yule ball shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-06-05 19:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15177785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeonsflower/pseuds/guksheart
Summary: Growing up with Jeon Jungkook at Hogwarts includes many things: awkward first impressions, potion spills, invigorating quidditch matches. But most of all, it means you never, ever get to be top of the class, and you will never forgive him for it.





	magic in your fingertips

_[ **year one** ]_

You are eleven years old when Jeon Jungkook begins to thoroughly ruin your pitiful, magical little life.

Hogwarts is something akin to a home to you already, and it’s only been a single day since the whimsical, ancient castle walls have claimed you as one of their own. The moment that a dusty, talking wizard’s hat sat atop your head and deemed you a member of your beloved house only occurred twenty four hours ago as well, but it feels as though it’s been centuries, as if you’ve always belonged to this beautiful school full of wizardry. You can still hear Professor Dumbledore’s words echoing in the back of your mind, bidding you all goodnight and wishing you a happy school year.

And here you are now, bright-eyed and giddy, in your final class of the very first day: Potions. You’re seated towards the very front of the classroom, quill and parchment out for your newest teacher to see that you are going to take their class _seriously_. It’s more than a bit strange to you that wizards and witches use quills—long, feathered instruments that you were to dip into ink—instead of pens like you’d previously done in your Muggle school, but, nonetheless, you are determined to make this school year your own and learn everything you possibly can. Even as other first years nervously bounce their legs beneath their desks and glance at the daunting professor slamming the front door open, there is nothing in your young mind that can stand in the way between you and a fantastic first impression.

The Potions professor is a tall man with long, charcoal-colored hair and a hooked nose, and he begins the lesson in one of the most startling manners you’ve ever experienced: by instantly demanding you all open your textbooks to page 126, select a partner, and begin making a hiccupping potion. With no roll call and no wonderful display of magic surging forth from his wand, he does absolutely nothing your previous professors have done to ease you into the way they conduct their class. Only these instructions are muttered from his monotonous voice, and the rest of the first-years immediately shoot up from their seats and scramble around to search for a seemingly intelligent partner.

You are still sitting in the front, mouth hanging open at the professor’s completely inappropriate introduction, when someone taps your shoulder. Spinning around in your seat, you wind up face-to-face with a boy who has the largest brown doe eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Hi,” says the boy, albeit a bit hesitantly. “Do you, um, maybe wanna be partners? With me?”

Confusion crosses your features at the question. Glancing around the classroom, you notice that everyone else has already acquired a partner in the time you’ve spent blinking stupidly up at the professor and are now attempting to fire up their cauldrons. _Of course,_ you think, _he’s only asking me because I’m the only option left for him to pick._ You would be more offended by this than you actually are, but you’re mostly just grateful that he didn’t leave you in the dust to fend for yourself.

“Sure!” you cheerily reply, sliding out of your chair and sticking out a hand for him to shake. “I’m Y/N, by the way, nice to meet you.“

The boy’s eyes widen even further—if that's possible—at the sight of you reaching out a hand, but he shakes it anyways.

“Jeon Jungkook,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you too. Should I, um, get the ingredients from the supply closet, then? And you can read the directions to figure out what we’re doing, I guess?”

“Of course! Yeah, that sounds good,” you say, and he gives you a curt nod before scurrying off towards the queue of first years lined up outside the spacious supply closet. 

Jungkook even _walks_ with a certain degree of uncertainty by staggering his movements as though someone were about to trip him when the opportunity strikes. He holds his head down towards the ground, evading other students’ eyes. The vivid blue of his tie, signaling his belonging to the house of Ravenclaw, stands in stark contract to his overly long black robes. His hair is rather tousled for an eleven year old, standing at odd angles all over his head. And really, you could spend all day analyzing Jungkook, but you look away from the doe-eyed boy and settle for scouring over the textbook’s directions on how to accurately create a hiccupping potion.

You have a professor to impress, after all.

By the time Jungkook approaches the desk again, arms laden with a series of ingredients, you’ve managed to produce a few purple flames beneath your cauldron. It’s certainly not bad for someone who’s never properly done any magic before, not bad at all, but Jungkook doesn’t even notice as he sprawls the ingredients out onto the table. You frown at him, but it fades quickly when he peers over your shoulder at your textbook.

“I can help you chop up the, uhh, eye of newt, if you want,” he offers.

“We actually have to crush that to get out the juices, not chop it,” you correct him. “But you can prepare the ingredients, and then I’ll drop them in and make sure we’re stirring them enough and that the temperature stays the same throughout the process.“

This time, it’s Jungkook’s turn to frown at you. “You’d be doing a lot of the work, then—”

“No, no, it’s okay! It can’t be that bad to do so much at once,” you say. You’re already bending down to check the temperature of the flames when he speaks again.

“Are you sure?” he inquires. “I could always help you with the stirring, you know, since it’s easy to lose track of how many stirs you’ve already done—“

“I can count just fine for myself, thank you.” You purse your lips at him. Who does this boy think he is, telling you that you can’t even count for yourself?

“ _Really_?” asks Jungkook. “Do you think you can handle all that at once, then?”

“I definitely _know_  I can handle it, thank you very much,” you interrupt him, confidence shining through your voice. Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, disappearing behind his bangs. He throws you a look so judgmental you can practically hear him mockingly saying “ _sure you can._ ”

And in this is moment in the middle of the Potions room, where you and Jeon Jungkook exchange looks of pure irritation, a surge of competitive adrenaline races through your blood like liquid fire. Even as you begin to silently work beside one another on your shared potion, you cannot help but dwell upon the doubt mixed in his words. This Ravenclaw boy may not believe in you for the simplest of things, but that does not mean anything compared to the spectacular things you know you can actually do. Especially since you decide that you are going to spend the rest of your time at Hogwarts proving him so very, very _wrong_.

This moment is just the beginning of a very long seven years.

_[ **year two** ]_

You are twelve when Jungkook makes the Ravenclaw Quidditch team and becomes the youngest Ravenclaw Seeker in fifty years.

You’re lingering in the courtyard with Kim Taehyung, a lanky third-year Hufflepuff  with an adorable rectangle of a smile, when you learn of the newest development in Jeon Jungkook’s life. It’s blisteringly hot this September, the kind of hot with blinding sun and sweat dripping down your nose, but that doesn’t prevent Taehyung from physically dragging you outdoors so you don’t “kill yourself studying again,” as he always puts it. Three weeks into the school year and he’s already thoroughly convinced you’re going to drown in textbooks and spell memorization and history of magic, just as you did all throughout the previous school year until you were so distraught you could hardly breathe.

When Taehyung bumped into you in the library last year, he made it his mission upon meeting you to “make you be an actual person, not a walking study machine.” So far, he’s been as determined as a Slytherin to keep this difficult promise.

“See, Y/N,” he’s telling you, leaning his back against an ancient oak tree towering in the center of the courtyard as he gestures towards the students fluttering around you. “This is what _living_ looks like. Not you being stuffed up in your dorm with your nose in a book.”

You raise an eyebrow at the plethora of people swarming about. There are girls grouped in tight circles giggling behind their hands and boys practicing their transfiguration on a blade of grass that then transforms into a poor, disgruntled mouse with grass instead of fur. Everyone has shrugged off their thick black robes and loosened their ties from their necks.

One of the more beautiful things about Hogwarts is that, when classes are out, students of all the houses come together to relax and mingle despite their house divides. You can spot the emerald, yellow, blue, and scarlet of all the houses here today.

Sun beating relentlessly down on you, you reply, “Living looks like the same view I’d have indoors, just with the weather trying to kill me instead.”

“If you were indoors, you both wouldn’t see this many people because you’d be alone in the library and wouldn’t have the pleasure of seeing me, the world’s greatest best friend,” Taehyung chirps back.

“I hate it _so much_ when you’re right-“

“Y/N! Tae! You won't  _believe_ what I just found out!”

Spinning your head in the direction of the voice calling out to you, you eventually spot Park Jimin flying towards you both from across the courtyard, robes billowing behind him. A fellow third year of Taehyung’s, Jimin also took you under his wing during your first year when he learned that Taehyung had also befriended you. Jimin is a little softer around the edges than Taehyung, a little less tough love and little more plain _love._ It’s odd, given that he’s in Slytherin, but if there’s anything you’ve learned, it’s that houses don’t mean nearly as much about a person than their stereotypes.

“Jeez, how long have you been running for, man?” Taehyung asks, watching as Jimin leans forward to catch his breath.

“Dunno,” Jimin pants, “but it’s been from the Quidditch pitch to here- the Slytherin team and I, we were just watching Ravenclaw’s tryouts—“

“Isn’t that technically not allowed?” you gasp.

“Well, no, but no one really cares since we’ll all find out about it anyways- and Tae, you won’t _believe this._ Jeon Jungkook just got picked to be their new Seeker!” says Jimin. Taehyung’s mouth falls open at the same time as yours. You clench a fist at your side.

“Are you _serious_? He must be really good if they picked a second year to be their bloody _Seeker,”_ Taehyung says.

At this news, anger coils in the pit of your stomach, wrenching your insides apart. Of _course_ Jeon Jungkook would make the Quidditch team in his second year. Of _course_ he would be amazing at the sole thing you were terrible at: sports. Of _course_ he would not only be on the team, but he would be the star player, the _Seeker,_ equivalent to a quarterback in American Muggle football teams.

The rivalry you began with Jungkook over a year ago hasn’t fizzled away into nothing over the course of your first year. It has expanded into something all of your housemates know about, and even a few teachers have caught on to the madness (Professor McGonagall, in particular, finds it hilarious). At first, it was nothing but petty glares thrown at one another from across a classroom. Then Jungkook purposefully showed you up during Potions when you’d already earned five points for your house by adding even _more_ detailedinformation to the question you’d just answered, earning Ravenclaw five points as well. Then you “accidentally” threw dirt at him during Herbology after he “accidentally” tripped you on your way in. Then you both came to the top of your year at the end of the school year, deeming you both equals in the eyes of the school.

You don’t speak to each other outside of class. You don’t glance in each other’s directions. Honestly, you don’t even like to _think_ about Jungkook if you can help it, but it seems that will change if he’s about to be a Quidditch player alongside two of your closest friends. You’re already wincing at the thought of so many people swooning over his skills.

“He’s the youngest Ravenclaw Seeker in fifty years or something, they were saying.” Jimin shakes his head. “Tae, tell all of Hufflepuff to watch out for him. We’ve gotta gang up against him if any of us are gonna beat Ravenclaw this year for the House Quidditch Cup.”

“Well, you know. He would be one of the youngest Seekers ever, but Scarhead came first,” Taehyung points out. “So he can’t be _that_ bad… or that good.“

And he’s right, you think. Jungkook certainly _would_ be the youngest Seeker century in a century, actually, but a first year Gryffindor stole that title in the year prior before Jungkook had the chance to take it himself. The thought of him losing _something_ to someone—to _anyone_ , even The Boy Who Lived himself—makes your lips tug into a sliver of a smile.

Even if you still sort of want to punch him for being too ridiculously good at _everything_.

_[ **year three** ]_

You are thirteen when Jungkook is in your Care of Magical Creatures class specifically to torment you.

Well, not _really._ But it certainly feels as though he’s determined to make your life utterly miserable by taking the exact same classes as you (though there’s no way for him to have known that before) and having his friends become your friends (though everyone else is fairly certain it was Taehyung and Jimin’s ideas to befriend him themselves).

He hasn’t changed at all since your first year, really. Perhaps he’s a little taller and a little less shy, but he’s still the same boy who believed you wouldn’t be able to _count properly_ when preparing a potion. He still gives snarky remarks under his breath during lessons, still zooms around the Quidditch pitch like he owns the damn place, still attempts to earn more house points than you at any given moment, still runs his hands through his hair every waking moment of every day.

His hair isn’t even _that_ nice. It’s overlong and curls just slightly over his ears, sticking out at odd angles from the back of his head. When he runs his hands through it, it messes it up even more until he looks like a tousled disaster with permanent bedhead.

You’ve done a decent job of ignoring Jungkook so far, despite his near constant appearance in your life _somehow._ The process of avoiding one Jeon Jungkook is simple: take shortcuts when he’s in the same hallway, sit on the opposite side of rooms, leave the library early and go study up in the dorms even if your roommates are still busy gossiping about the same things you’d love to gossip about if you had the time. Taehyung and Jimin have (most unfortunately) gotten to know and even like Jungkook through Quidditch, and whenever they invite him around, you simply claim to have other plans or promptly exit the room when he shows up with that stupid smirk plastered to his face. Your friends don’t question you or your motives too harshly, only rolling their eyes at the idea that you can’t handle being in the physical presence of a boy who you routinely see anyways.

Jungkook does the same to you, though. You haven’t missed the sight of him dashing into another moving staircase when you step unknowingly onto the same one as him. On multiple occasions, he’s walked up to say hello to Jimin or Taehyung only to notice you there and backing away immediately. There was even a time when he ditched in the middle of a celebratory inter-house Halloween party because you showed up midway through due to getting stuck in a meeting with a professor beforehand, and he merely could not deal with the fact that _you_ were there in a cat costume, mingling with people he considered to be his friends.

So the feeling of downright loathing is mutual, it seems, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Especially when his utter perfection at _everything_ and his determination to best you enfuriates you to your very core.

It’s only when November has its firm grip around the brisk air and your Care of Magical Creatures class is shivering together outside when you are forced to fully interact with each other again. The class is supposed to be taking care of blast-ended skrewts together and Hagrid has led you all outside to meet them. Your mind has slipped elsewhere as Hagrid lists off the names for the partners, the lack of sleep from the previous night stealing away your focus. It’s as though you’re floating in a daydream.

“Michael, yer with Jennie,” Hagrid reads off in his heavy accent, standing tall and proud in the center of all the third years huddled together for warmth. His breath comes out in little white puffs.

_I wonder if I can nap quickly before Transfiguration later,_ you think. _Or maybe I should just go to sleep earlier tonight and wake up an hour early to finish that Potions essay…_

“Chaeyoung and Neville, both of yeh are together…“

_God, please, just let me rest for a second—_

“Y/N and Jungkook—“

That snaps you right out of your sleep-deprived daze.

“Oh, absolutely _not,_ ” you blurt out instantly. The rest of the class’s eyes appear as though they’re about to pop out of their heads at the remark. You can see Jungkook peering at you out of the corner of his eye. “I mean—I’d really rather not have him as a partner, Professor Hagrid,” you try to explain quietly, panicking slightly. “I promised Jisoo that I would help her—”

Hagrid laughs his big, booming laugh. “Jisoo is partnered with Seamus, Y/N.”

“Oh.” Heat burns through your cheeks.

“Yer both the top of yer class, Miss Y/N,” says Hagrid good-naturedly, placing his hand on your shoulder. When he grins at you, you’re absolutely certain he knows of your particularly cruel predicament when it comes to Jungkook. “It’s only fair to everyone else that yer together. Otherwise, yeh’d be stuck with someone who makes yeh to do all the work yerself! Now, let me get back to me list, will yeh?”

Jungkook doesn’t appear delighted at the idea, either, his face twisted in distaste when he looks over at you from the circle of other Ravenclaw boys surrounding him. Yet he walks over to you and positions himself directly next to you regardless as though claiming you as his partner whether you liked it or not. Silent hostility emanates from him as he crosses his arms over his chest. You feel almost vulnerable while standing next to him like this, like either of you could combust at any moment.

“I won’t let you do all the work,” he says quietly. He doesn’t dare look you in the eye as he speaks.

“Oh,” you say, slightly taken aback. It’s unusual for him to say anything to you apart from things along the lines of _watch me do this better than you can._ “Um—thank you.”

He gives you a slight nod and angles himself away from you. It’s enough, truly, to press down some of the conflict between you, if only for a day.

You spend the entire remainder of class staring at the strand of dark hair on his head that simply won’t lie flat.

_[ **year four** ]_

You are fourteen when the Triwizard Tournament comes to Hogwarts.

With the Triwizard Tournament, however, comes the Yule Ball, and that is somehow a much bigger deal than the tournament. Hogwarts _never_ has fun festivities like this—its festivities are typically more life threatening than a simple ball—and the news of it spreads so quickly throughout the school that it’s all anyone could talk about. Girls and boys alike whisper to each other about who’d they like to take and what color they’d like to wear and what the decorations could possibly be like.

It takes every single bit of blasted stubbornness in you to convince yourself _not_ to care so much about the ball. You fail spectacularly the instant you try because, truth be told, the idea of attending a beautiful ball with someone you could potentially love swells your heart with joy. A little bit cliché, of course, but it’s a lovely thought.

But, as your luck would have it, Taehyung asks you to go with him as friends before you have the chance to consider who you’d _actually_ want to go with. He saunters over to your table during lunch the day after the Yule Ball is announced, swings his legs over the bench, and asks, “Go to the ball with me, Y/N?” before stealing a swig of your pumpkin juice. The rest of the girls at your table burst out laughing at the scoff on your face.

“I’ll go with you, Kim,” you reply bitterly, “but you’re buying me an infinite supply of Bertie Botts for stealing my drinks so damn much.”

Taehyung is so casual about the whole ordeal that not a single student or professor at Hogwarts believes, even for a second, that he has the intent to date you in the future. Usually when friends ask each other to dances, it’s widely assumed that they’ve been secretly pining for each other all along. With Taehyung, that simply isn’t the case. All you’ve ever been to him is Y/N, the girl in the year below him who he must incessantly remind to take care of herself. To you, all he’s ever been is Taehyung, the boy who irritates you endlessly yet retains a special place in your largely reserved heart.

Taehyung asking you to the ball allows the month of waiting to be far less anxiety inducing than it would be otherwise. Everyone is constantly thinking or talking about it, even when there’s no good reason to be. There are abrupt proposals during classes, loud declarations of love the library, and lovely displays of magic simply to ask someone else to attend a ball. Hogsmeade’s sales of expensive gowns and dress robes must have skyrocketed, surely, given that the vast majority of Hogwarts students are scouring for the perfect outfits there. Jimin himself keeps a running list of who was going to the ball with who, pinning it up in the hall for everyone to look over. It's  _madness._

Jisoo, a Gryffindor girl in your year, is always talking about it over meals with you, blabbering on and on about how only the beautiful girls get asked to the ball and how she’ll wind up alone because she’s not pretty like Fleur Delacour. Considering how Jisoo is arguably one of the most gorgeous girls you’ve ever seen, with thick hair so strong it's practically a muscle waving past her shoulders and dark eyes that glint like stars, every conservation with her feels redundant.

“Jisoo,” you’re saying to her over butterbeer, “it’s going to be alright. That burly guy from Durmstrang has been staring you down whenever we pass him after Defense Against The Dark Arts like he wants to devour you or something.”

“ _Really_?” she asks.

“Really,” you assure her. “He’s probably going to ask you soon. And anyways, you don’t _need_ a date to be happy, you know. You’re perfectly fine on your own.”

“You’re just saying that because you already have a date,” says Jisoo. “And even if Taehyung hadn’t asked you, I’m willing to bet a certain Jeon Jungkook would.“ You scoff at the idea. 

“Jeon Jungkook would rather throw me to the dragon that nearly _murdered_ Harry Potter than go the dance with me,” you reply. 

There’s far more truth to the statement than falsehood, surely. The boy won’t even look you in the eye this year, contrary to all of the competitive glares you’d received as a poor eleven year old. He still does his absolute best to outdo you in every possible way, of course, particularly when it comes to academics, but it’s more subtle than direct this time around. He is more likely to try to earn Ravenclaw twenty extra house points in his own way than to add on to whatever question you’ve answered in a brilliant spectacle of his further knowledge.

You aren’t sure what’s changed. You aren’t sure you want to know.

Jisoo merely shakes her head. “Whatever you say, Y/N.”

But after this tediously long month of waiting, the Yule Ball arrives with the swiftness of a Firebolt. Any student in Hogwarts can sense the buzz of anticipation pulsing through them and reverberating in their bones the day of the ball. Excitement bubbles up in the boisterous chatter floating from the corridors. Everyone and their dates have either lined up in the main corridor outside of the Great Hall before wandering inside of it, clinging tightly to one another. Girls squeal at each other’s outfits, boys encourage each other’s looks, and dates give each other soft kisses on the cheek.

When Taehyung sees you making your way towards him outside of the Great Hall, hair pinned up in curls and a shimmering navy gown clinging to your skin, he doesn’t kiss your cheek. He grins, holds his arm out for you to take, and exclaims, “Y/N! You look great! D’you think we can steal some firewhiskey from the professor’s table?”

“You’re too young to be an alcoholic,” you inform him, rolling your eyes as you take his arm. “But if we get the chance to steal anything from Snape, I’m going for it.”

“Since when did you get so rebellious?” Taehyung teases.

“Since I met you, I think. And since Snape refused to give me an O on that essay he made us write on wolfsbane,” you say, gritting your teeth. 

You look Taehyung up and down for a moment, taking in the fact that his dress robes match your exactly and accentuate his newly masculine features. Then he’s pulling you in the direction of the Great Hall, where you hope your other friends must likely be. The sounds of the Weird Sisters floats through the doorway as you enter, still attached to Taehyung’s arm when the expanding crowd frantically jumping up and down by the stage comes into view. It almost sounds like Muggle music with brash crashing of cymbals and thump of bass guitar, reminding you of overcrowded concerts from home.

“God forbid you don’t get an O on a single essay in your entire life—oh, would you look at who’s arrived,” Taehyung is saying, interrupting his own train of thought. You squint for a moment before following his gaze to the opposite side of the room, recognizing an ever-so familiar head of dark hair strolling along in an aisle separating the tables and chairs.

“Is it too early to leave?” you ask Taehyung, eyes still glued to Jungkook. You’re not serious about the idea, clearly, as you spent far too long pinning up your hair into delicate curls earlier today simply to abandon the event because of an idiotic _boy_.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “It’s too early for you to be this much of a _coward._ Hey, do you see that? He’s looking at you too.”

As usual, he’s correct about this. Even from here, you can tell that Jungkook is staring back at you from all the way across the corridor, arm still clinging to his date and his mouth parted lightly. Perhaps he’s surprised at the image of you in a dress; perhaps he’s a bit appalled at what he sees. You aren’t sure. He’s too distant from you in order for you distinguish any gleam of disbelief or abhorrence in his eyes.

But what you _can_ perceive is Jungkook in gorgeous silver dress robes that shimmer like diamonds with each step he takes. Large doe eyes peer back at you as he tilts his head, drinking you in. A dimple you’ve never quite noticed before indents the side of his cheek. His hair, typically so messy it never stands in the same direction, has been considerably toned down so that his bangs sweep across his forehead in one smooth motion.

When you see him like this, you think, _Jeon Jungkook is kind of beautiful_.

Not even a second later, you drop the thought completely, flabbergasted by yourself.

“C’mon, Y/N, forget about him being there,” says Taehyung, nudging you with his shoulder at the same moment Jungkook’s date tears him away from your direction. “I can see Snape leaving his goblet behind already, and we have a _lot_ of revenge to enact on him tonight.”

_[ **year five** ]_

You are fifteen when you become a prefect.

The students selected to become prefects are always the best in more ways than one: their academics are on top, their moral standards are high, and the professors believe them to be the students who truly could benefit from some leadership skills. It’s astonishment that consumes you more than anything when the prefect badge arrives in the mail that summer, so much astonishment that you enthusiastically throw your arms around your poor old owl in glee. Her feathers are so ruffled when you pull away that your Muggle parents—who never quite know what to do with your owl, to say the least— anxiously rush over to check and see if she’s still breathing. (She is, thankfully, but she also ignores you for a week after that.)

After everything that had happened at the end of last semester, the news of becoming prefect is more than just music to year ears. The Triwizard Tournament had ended in bloodshed and the news of Lord Voldemort’s return come straight from Harry Potter’s mouth, sending the whole magic world into delirious frenzy. The Daily Prophet continuously rejected Harry Potter’s claims, declaring that the community was completely safe from harm—but Cedric Diggory is dead, and there was absolutely no way in _hell_ you are going to trust the government’s word on exactly how, particularly when the Dark Mark has been spotted at various locations ever since.

The dazzling badge in your hand means two things: 1) you’re still proving yourself at Hogwarts no matter what other students’ marks look like, and 2) more ordinary things than frantic letters about the dangerous future of the wizarding world are to come.

September 1st rolls around quickly after the badge arrives, and you find yourself walking through Platform 9 ¾ for the fifth time in your life, still amazed by the sounds of owls hooting and the billowing smoke emitting from the Hogwarts Express. You waste no time climbing onto the train with your heavy trunk lugged behind you, exchantment rushing through you the second you thrust yourself back into the world you belong in. Students chatter back and forth in every compartment you pass. The trolley lady offers you some sweets as you squeeze by, which you happily decline as you are on a mission to find the correct compartment. 

Normally, you would be finding a compartment at the back of the train to share with Taehyung and Jimin before chowing down on chocolate frogs and the latest gossip. This year, though, you’re delegated to spend the ride to Hogwarts in the prefect’s compartment going over the rules and regulations you were to follow throughout the school.

You reach the prefect’s compartment with ease and enter only to discover that the compartment has been magicked to become abnormally large. The room easily fits at least twenty people in it already, old and new prefects alike clumped together in their respective cliques, babbling away. Comfortable sitting booths line the walls, but this particular compartment also contains tables for meals as well as the occasional talking painting hung up for added decoration.

Among the other new prefects milling about the room (including Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, and, surprisingly, Ron Weasley), you spot the exact person you simultaneously dreaded and anticipated being there: Jeon Jungkook, as usual. It was no secret that he is a favorite of the professors for his unusual charm and intellect, so it’s really only natural that he should be elected a prefect. You are not at all surprised to view him standing in the corner of the compartment by one of the paintings, silently observing everyone else around him. What you are surprised to see is exactly how much he’d managed to _change_ over the summer.

The last time you’d seen him, he was a head shorter and a whole lot less muscular than he is at the present moment. Stretching across the fabric of the black sweater he’s donning are his much broader shoulders, earning him a more refined appearance. A square, angular jaw replaces what was once soft and round, all the baby fat from his cheeks completely vanished. His arms, too, have doubled to the size of your head with newly acquired muscle. He’s only _fifteen_ , the same age as you, and yet it appears as if he should have graduated by now. Deep down, there’s part of you that desperately wants to march over to him and ask him what the hell just happened to him over the past three months.

He beats you to it, however, eyes snapping over to yours before he’s strolling over to you with a newfound confidence that only causes your eyes to widen.

“Is there a reason you’ve been staring daggers into my chest since you got here, or what?” he asks as though all you have ever been is casual friends, not practically sworn enemies.

“Nice to see you too, Jeon,” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest. _He’s gotten taller, too_ , you think, recognizing how he now towers over your frame where you used to be able to meet each other’s eyes easily. “Was it magic or steroids that made you like this?”

“Puberty’s more like it,” he says with a shrug, rubbing the back of his head like he always does when he’s embarrassed. “Guess it hit me twice. Or just really fucking late compared to most people.”

“I don’t completely buy that, surprisingly enough.”

 “I promise you there’s nothing magical about me. Just hormones and Quidditch practice doing their thing, making me less and less awkward looking by the day,” he says. “Happened to you too, truth be told, but you don’t play Quidditch.”

You elect to ignore _that_ comment.

“So you’re a prefect too, then?” you ask, nodding at the prefect badge pinned to his sweater. He peers down at it, too, as though he forgot it was ever there.

“Yeah—guess Flitwick forgives me almost knocking him over in Charms second year if he made me prefect, huh?”

“Of _course_ he forgives you for that. You were _twelve,_ even if you were just trying to show off.”

“Pfft, you act like you don’t do it to our professors, either. I’ve seen you trying to transfigure things in front of McGonagall during meals—changing water into wine? Real original.”

“Not saying I don’t do that, only stating a fact.” You roll your eyes, though you’re mostly trying to repress how startlingly easily the conversation is flowing. “But seriously, how do you think you’re gonna handle the responsibility? You almost let that blast-ended skrewt kill me third year, you know.”

“That was an accident, Y/N, I _promise._ The damn skrewt had a mind of its own and I had no idea it was gonna try and burn you… and I don’t know about the _responsibility_ aspect of it, but I’m still excited about being a prefect in a way. Especially with… You-Know-Who coming back at the end of the Triwizard Tournament last year, it’s nice to have some normality once again, going back to school after so much chaos in the summer and all,” says Jungkook earnestly.

“So you believe him, then?” you inquire, curiosity bubbling to the surface of your words. “You believe Harry Potter, I mean?”

“’Course I do,” says Jungkook simply, as though it is the most simple thing in the world. “You’d be a dumbass not to believe him. The kid’s not an idiot—he’d get skinned alive for lying about such a thing when people would catch on in a year or two when You-Know-Who doesn’t do shit. The government’s just going mental because a fifteen year old might be on to something a lot more terrifying and a lot bigger than themselves.”

His blatant honesty has you feeling as though he had blasted you with a Confundus charm It takes you aback to hear him spewing such opinions even when they are opinions that could get him in _dire_ trouble with most of your peers.

“You know, you’re a lot smarter than you seem, Jeon,” you admit, hoping he senses how much you actually mean it.

He does not actually respond back to you, perhaps because words wouldn’t be enough, perhaps because he doesn’t feel the need to. But then Jungkook beams at you in such a genuine way, with a smile so bright it is as if all the light of the moon is emitting straight from him, that the image of it burns itself into your memory. Possibly permanently.

You spend the rest of your fifth year unable to forget it, even if he still goes out of his way to earn more house points than you on any mediocre day.

_[ **year six** ]_

You are sixteen when Jeon Jungkook makes his first ever mistake at a Quidditch game.

One of the more lovely things about being best friends with Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin is that you’re _constantly_ going to different Quidditch matches simply to support them. You are at every Hufflepuff game, every Slytherin game, and every other game they want to attend in order to “scope out the enemy”, no matter _what._ It’s part of the best friend code, so to speak. 

And regardless of that, this is their final year before they graduate and head off into the great big wizarding world at large to become meaningful members of society. Or, in Taehyung’s case, he wants to become “the next Celestina Warbeck,” a witch who warbles the same ridiculous song about a hot, strong cauldron of love every year on wizarding radio stations. (Jimin wants to be a Healer, so you still have some hope in them after all.)

With that in mind, you figure you should watch them rush around a Quidditch pitch hurtling Bludgers at each other as much as you can this time around.

So here you are, high up in the overcrowded stands, shivering your ass off in the biting November winds. You have your house’s scarf wrapped tight around your neck and a matching hat snug atop your head. A thick winter turtleneck beneath a jacket isn’t _nearly_ enough to insulate you properly, so you’ve taken to bouncing up and down on your toes to heat up the blood pumping through your body.

“I am going to Avada Kedavra Kim Taehyung’s ass for making me to come to his game,” you’re saying through chattering teeth. 

Jimin and Jisoo stand on either side of you, avidly cheering or crying out whenever Hufflepuff scores against Ravenclaw. On this overcast autumn day, the bold blue and vivid yellow Quidditch robes are the only spots of color in sight, especially with stoic grey clouds hanging overhead. The score is 60-50 with Ravenclaw in the lead, and you can practically hear Taehyung’s low growls of rage from here. 

You continue with, “I should really be studying for my N.E.W.T.s right now—!”

“If I had a Sickle for every time you’ve threatened to kill Taehyung,” Jimin shouts over the sound of Hufflepuffs roaring as Taehyung’s Bludger blasts the Quaffle out of a Ravenclaw Chaser’s hands, “I think I’d be a billionaire!”

“Will you ever let me complain for one _second_ , Jimin?”

“Y/N, can you ever have _fun_ for one second?”

“Shut _up_ before I stick your own bloody wand so far up your nose that it comes out your—“

“Merlin’s _beard!”_ Jisoo exclaims, eyes practically popping out of her head.“Jeon’s spotted the Snitch, oh no, oh no, oh _no—!_ “

Back on the Quidditch pitch, there is a flood of activity currently underway. Taehyung and the other Hufflepuff Beater are still hurtling Bludgers in any course they can, Ravenclaw Chasers zig-zagging in and out of their path. In the center, a Ravenclaw robed young man you can only assume to be Jungkook is bursting forward at an incredible speed. 

He is chasing after a small, glittering object entirely invisible to your naked eye, but it definitely must be coming toward this section of the stands because he’s darting dangerously fast towards the three of you.

Jisoo gives a yelp when he races right above you and loops into a perfect circle, sending violent currents of wind rustling through your hair. You can see the Snitch slowing about thirty feet across from you, puzzled as to where to go next to confuse the Seeker chasing desperately after it. Taking only a brief instant to spot it with his expert eye, Jungkook swiftly zooms right back the same way he came. He is leaning forward on his broom and angling his hand towards the Snitch, reaching out, out, out—

Extending his arm to the Snitch as though it is the most precious bounty of gold a wizard could ever think to have, his gaze then flickers over to people in the stands and lands straight on you. Your breath catches in your throat and time decelerates till it nearly freezes, seconds dragging out until they are no longer seconds at all. Something shifts in his expression at the picture of you watching him.

Then, Jungkook drops.

“Oh my _God_ , he almost just fell off his broom!” Jisoo shrieks, jumping up from her seat and immediately rushing over to the side of the stands. 

Both you and Jimin follow suit in a worried fit, too nervous to wait. Shouting erupts from the Ravenclaws as the entire audience moves to view what’s happened with their Seeker. What they see when bending their heads down towards the grass is Jungkook, still suspended mid-air, not flying towards anything at all. No broken bones or any harm done as he never hit the ground, thank God, but he seems completely out of it. He is clutching the base of his broom with a slightly dazed expression, the Golden Snitch nowhere in sight.

It got away from him.

Holy shit, _the Snitch got away from him._

“He’s never missed the Snitch when he’s that close to it!” Jimin yells, dumbfounded. He turns to the two of you with confusion written in the lines of his face and his brows furrowed together. “Who knew Jungkook could actually screw up for once?”

“I mean, I’m glad he’s okay,” says Jisoo, “but what d’you think made him lose focus halfway through that?” 

Jimin shakes his head, still lost in his own disbelief.

“No idea,” you reply, mostly to yourself, though the influx of hot blood rushing to your cheeks certainly states otherwise.

_[ **year seven** ]_

You are seventeen when you realize that your future is at stake.

Well, not just _your_ future, but the future of the entire wizarding world, given that He-Who-Must-Be-Named is slowly overtaking everything you’ve known and loved since your Hogwarts letter first arrived seven years ago. The Ministry of Magic itself is now crawling with Death Eaters disguised as good people; Hogwarts is now run by Severus Snape, head Asshole of the Universe, a murderer, and a liar. Many of the old professors and students have fled the school to go into hiding, leaving students to be stuck with— _surprise!_ —more Death Eaters as instructors. Such Death Eaters force their students to use forbidden curses on one another as punishment. 

Dark magic is seeping its way into every crevice of Hogwarts, between every brick of its walls and in the hearts of too many of its inhabitants, and every day is more and more terrifying than the last.

The Room of Requirement is your closest friend nowadays. Typically, it is used as a place to house Dumbledore’s Army, or what’s left of it, at least. You have been a member of the in-Hogwarts rebellion since your fifth year, but the numbers have dwindled as students pull themselves out of school or don’t want to risk the matter. 

For Dumbledore’s Army, the room is an enormous safe haven of warm beds, stockpiled food, healing supplies, potion ingredients, strategy books, and overall distractions. For you, it becomes a comfortable room complete with fully stocked bookshelves, an ignited fireplace, multiple squishy couches, lit candles on coffee tables, and the smell of cinnamon wafting through the air.

With Taehyung and Jimin both graduated and off to fight the war themselves, you had no place to turn to, really. So you hide.

You lean your head back against one of the couches as the tears flow freely from the corners of your eyes, an ocean wave of emotion crashing over you. Nowadays, it seems that all you can do is cry the very instant you are left alone, everything leaking out of you like sap from a tree. Digging your heels into the plush carpeting below you, you pull your knees into your chest and permit yourself to be wrecked by sobs. Because the Room of Requirement always gives you what you need, it gives you this: a room to _feel._

You are absolutely overwhelmed with anxiety over Taehyung and Jimin even just _thinking_ about the pair of them, alone and frightened even though they claimed they were so sure they could take on You-Know-Who. Dumbledore’s Army has been listening to Potterwatch Radio for updates on who’s gone missing or found dead, and every day your heart clenches around itself, anxious that someday you will hear their names among those lists. 

Missing them is an ache you cannot suppress with firewhiskey or chocolate frogs or textbook readings. It hurts so _much_ to not have them here, but you would also rather have them away from Hogwarts rather than dwelling inside of it.

The quiet crackle of the fireplace should be the only sound you hear apart from your own thoughts, but that peace is swiftly disturbed when the door to your secret refuge slowly creaks open.

“Oh my God, Y/N? Is that—wait, shit, are you _crying_?”

Then someone is quickly shutting the door behind them before rushing over to you so fast you hardly have time to register their presence. Vision blurred by tears, you can’t quite decipher their features, but you certainly recognize the voice of the being sinking down onto the floor beside you.

“Jungkook, what’re you doing here?“

“I just needed a place to think,“ he breathes out. "Thought I’d come and get my mind off the war, but seriously—are you okay? What’s going on?” Jungkook’s voice is hurried, concern laced through his tone as he examines your face. “Did the Carrows hurt you? I swear on Dumbledore’s grave, if they had someone use the Cruciatus Curse on you like they’ve been doing to the other Muggleborns, I will _end them_ myself—“

“No, no, no,” you interrupt, wiping the tears from your eyes so as to get a better look at him, “I’m not hurt, I promise, I’m just… crying, I guess.”

Now that the tears have been wiped away, you have a proper view of Jungkook sitting next to you. He’s clothed in snug Muggle wear instead of his robes, face pale from something you cannot quite detect. His messy hair still has that one strand that refuses to lie down flat. Large brown doe eyes glisten in the candlelight, and for a moment, you are struck with the memory of when you met all those years ago in the Potions classroom. 

All those years ago when things were so much simpler.

“Why are you crying, though?” he asks softly. “If it’s alright for me to ask, anyways.”

“It’s stupid,” you mumble.

“If it hurts, I guarantee you that it’s not nearly as stupid as you think.”

Well. That’s certainly not something you were expecting from his mouth. And somehow, that compels the words to pour forth like a tidal wave from your own.

“It’s just—everything, I guess?” Your voice comes out trembling. “Everything is so overwhelming right now, and I don’t know what to do about it other than just… cry, cry and want to break things, cry and want to cry some some more.  It’s Snape being a fucking _Death Eater_ and turning Hogwarts into a prison, it’s Jisoo dropping out of school, it’s Luna Lovegood getting kidnapped, it’s all the Gryffindors being too scared to say You-Know-Who’s name, it’s the Carrows forcing us to torture each other, it’s so many of dying every single day, it’s the fact that we’re in a war, it’s that I’ve only been in the world of magic for seven years and it’s all being taken from me from a psychotic bald man without a damn _nose._ And it’s the fact that I can’t do anything about it. I can’t make this better, and it feels like I’m going to burst with the weight of it.”

“Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry…” Jungkook’s eyes soften as he glances at you. He then lifts his hand up to your cheek, gently wiping the tears that began rolling as you spoke away with the pad of his thumb. However, he immediately drops his hands from your face, apologies lying all over his expression.

 “Shit, sorry, I don’t—I don’t know why I did that,” he stammers out. “Probably shouldn’t be touching you.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” you reply with a small sniffle. “I kind of appreciate it, actually. Nice to have someone get rid of your tears for you… Thank you. Really.”

“Are you sure? Normally, you hate my guts, so I figured you wouldn’t want me to, uh, touch you. At all.”

Oh… right. 

Normally, in usual years, you certainly would not want him touching you at all. But these are not normal years, you suppose, and there is no time for things as petty as idiotic childhood rivalries. Not here, not now. Now that you think about it, you can’t even _remember_ the last time you thought about Jungkook as anything other than a boy.

A beautiful boy. A boy you believe you may have been wrong about all these years, especially if he’s being so ridiculously kind to a girl he previously loathed. 

“I don’t hate your guts.“ You shake your head. “Not sure I ever did, really.

Jungkook blinks, clearly confused. “What?”

“I just wanted to… prove myself worthy to the wizarding world, you know, when we were younger,” you explain, bottom lip still wavering from emotion. “Since Muggleborns aren’t treated fairly most of the time. And you were always trying to be the best at everything you did, even in house points, and since I wanted that type of excellence too, _that_ made me want to hate you. So I sort of just… did? I don’t know. It was so dumb, now that I think about it.”

“It was,” he agrees with a nod. “On my part, too. Intelligent women scare weak men, you know, and I was fucking _weak._ ” 

He grins as the comment gets you to let out a soft chuckle.

“I was a bit weak for you too,” you agree, biting the inside of your cheek. “Just in a different way. Especially after fifth year, I stopped hating you so much. Got nervous instead of angry when I saw you in the halls. Stopped seeing you so much as a threat, and more as just another person who was just as smart and capable as anyone else—maybe even more so.”

Jungkook is peering at you with those big eyes again, the eyes you think you’ve always admired. A twinkle of mystified interest lies inside of them, representation of the fact that he is perpetually confused by what you are articulating.

“Jungkook,” you begin with a shaky breath, “what I’m trying to say is that the war could come to Hogwarts tomorrow, and if we die, I want you to know that I really, _really_ like you, and I maybe always have.”

There is silence, then. Jungkook stares at you with lips parted open, stunned. For the second time since his arrival, memory consumes you. He held a similar look on his face three years ago when he saw you at the Yule Ball, a look that you hadn’t seen up close until now. In the present, you can see that the look was utter amazement.

That is when Jungkook grasps your face with both of his hands and kisses you, drawing your lips to his with frantic intent. You tangle one hand through his hair and wrap one arm around his neck, dizzy with the knowledge that every planet in your universe was shifting its orbit now that you are _kissing_ Jeon Jungkook.

He is kissing you with such a desperation you cannot possibly keep up with, kissing you until your thoughts explode into black holes behind your eyelids, kissing you till you’re absolutely breathless and unsteady with the delectable taste of him on your tongue. He lets go of you just as you feel your lungs may rupture from lack of oxygen.

“How long have you wanted to do that?” you ask him quietly, peering up at his face through dark lashes. His lips are swollen red as a berry, puffy from the pressure of your kiss just moments before.

“Probably since we were eleven and you scared the shit out of me with how confident you were,” he says honestly, grazing his hand over the side of your face. “I probably fell in love with you then.”

“So why now wait to kiss me?” you prompt once more. “Why not last year? Or the year before that?”

Even now—after you have kissed him, after you have told him _everything_ you’ve been feeling—his gaze has you feeling as though you’re being observed through a telescope on the Astronomy Tower from afar. Vulnerability soaks through skin as he contemplates every inch of your being. You’ve never quite seen him like this before, so open and unguarded that he lets himself scour over you without inhibition. You adore this version of him far more than you care to admit.

After much contemplation, he replies, “Because, like you said, we could die tomorrow with the way things are going. And I really don’t think I’d want to die without kissing you at least once.”

Leaning forward, you press your lips against flush his again. Softer this time, with less emotion and less frenzy, hoping the intimacy of the moment speaks for itself. He is so achingly close to you that you are able to feel his eyelashes brushing lightly against your skin. His lips are as warm as the love swelling inside your heart. When you pull away, too starved for air once more, magic pulses in your fingertips.

“If we die tomorrow,” you breathe out, “you can at least say you’ve kissed me twice.”

And when Jungkook grins at you as if you have just hung all the stunning stars in his sky, you know you may die kissing him an infinite number of times.

**Author's Note:**

> i,,, need to write more hogwarts aus kajlsgfd honestly this was one of the most fun things to write EVER simply because of how ridiculous the concept is and because jjk cannot get a grip on himself :') plus jimin and tae as these ludicrously wonderful friends... that's goals, honestly
> 
> find me on tumblr and twitter @guksheart!


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